


Childhood

by fukmylyf



Category: Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-11
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 23:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fukmylyf/pseuds/fukmylyf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My first fic here, comments would be highly appreciated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Childhood

Thunder rumbled in the distance. James pulled his coat around him tightly, the bitter London rain stinging his tear stained face. He kept his head down, moving at a fast but steady pace. Lightning flashed and he jumped, splashing into a large puddle and drenching himself. He knew his father would scream at him. He was never one to be sympathetic. James would be severely beaten, and when his father found out he was bullied at school, he’d scream and beat the poor boy some more.   
But in spite of it all, it wasn’t his safety he worried about. His mother had recently stood up for him, saying she was “sick of the beatings! If you lay a hand on me or James one more time, we’re leaving you to your sick alcohol infatuated fantasies!” For once, James’ father knew he’d crossed the line. These outbursts had occurred more recently and he had a feeling something bad was going to happen.

The bad grudge that James had been having was right. When he arrived at the bottom of the stingy apartment where he was forced to endure physical and mental torture, his father rushed past him, hands covered in blood. James rushed upstairs to find the door open. 

His mother was a bloody heap on the floor. He rushed to her and cradled her mangled yet angelic face in his lap, tears streaming down his hot cheeks. Her breathing was raspy and she was coughing blood. “No, no,” he whimpered, refusing to believe the sight in front of him was real. “James, darling, be brave,” his mother whispered, touching his face lightly. She breathed one last time. James screamed with all that he was worth and something inside him broke. 

James gently picked up his mother and lay her in her bed. He cleaned her up and arranged the sheets so she looked like she was sleeping. Then, after admiring his work, he went to the kitchen, grabbed the largest knife he could find, and went searching for his father.

The next morning, the news of the death of a couple and their missing son had spread all across East London. James smiled at the bloody knife in his hand. He loved the feeling of having others tremble beneath him. It was a new and highly welcome sensation. He glanced up at the cloudy sky, the port bustling all around him and for the first time in a while, he felt truly at home.

\--

Hook hated the boy. He hated his tricks, his cockiness, his appearance. Hook hated everything about the boy but what he hated most of all was the fact that the boy left his mother crying about her baby getting kidnapped somewhere in London. How that idiot boy could act so carefree when he knew that he abandoned his family, he did not know. 

What he did know was that this time, he was going to make that boy pay.


End file.
